


A Ticket to the Land of Dreams

by circumlucent



Category: Beat (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Berlin - Freeform, Berlin techno scene, Blonde boys, Bruises, Hand Jobs, Jewellery, Linguistic sex, M/M, Russian Mafia, Russian tattoos, jewellery kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-29 06:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circumlucent/pseuds/circumlucent
Summary: How can 20 hours in Berlin change the course of one's life?





	1. First day, AM

6 am. _The heart flutters its wings, quietly, so no one can see it’s beating for someone special_

The lights of the Fernsehturm are blinking, tiny red dots still visible at sunrise. The air smells like night, but you can tell a new morning is breaking through its veil.

Janik is sitting on the club roof. A mere metres beneath him people are still dancing. It's like in a fairy tale when a spell is cast. Outside, time passes, its rules are still valid, but in the enchanted world everything stays the same, untouched, immutable. A mere metres beneath him the beat goes on, the clocks have stopped working and the night has no end. He feels he is sitting on a pulsating heart, beating 120 beats per minute, almost as intensely as his own heart.

His legs hurt, so he takes some steps around. The red bricks and green roofs of the city hall stand out in the light morning fog. The boy sitting next to him is looking at the city displayed around them. For a moment he casts his eyes down and a smirk blossoms on his face. Janik loves that smirk, a smile waiting to happen, rippling beneath the surface. But it is just a shadow that soon disappears, replaced by a sigh and a snort.

"I think I need to go now."

A light touch on his shoulder, steps shuffling to the door, a metal thud and he's gone.

Sadness and relief wash over him: he wants him back, but he is grateful he is still in one piece. The bruise on his ribcage hurts.

\---

7 am. _When the object of desire is gone, the heart slows its pace, lies down and waits_

Janik stays on the roof until the music stops. He stays there until he hears the metal thud of the door again and another touch on his shoulder, which makes him stand and leave. He likes walking home with Robert, his flatmate who works as a promoter at the club: he always has plenty to tell about his working nights - the music, the intrigues, the money, the drugs.

Today he listens, but part of his mind is rewinding his own night with the Russian. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes, expensive clothes, stacked golden rings and that smirk, always teasing and leaving space for more. More blondness, more kisses, more sweat smelling like violets and gasoline on hot pavement, more gold reflecting on his own skin, more smooth consonants, shifting accents, words coming from the back of the tongue. Last night trickled away too quickly and has left him unsatisfied.

\--- 

7.30 am. _Deprived of rest, the heart functions pointlessly_

Once home, they retreat into their own bedrooms. Robert can sleep all morning because he will be back to the club in the late afternoon, but Janik has only one hour left before going to the hospital where he works as paramedic.

His mind is tired, hazy from lack of sleep, and his heart is still beating like a drum, no more following the tune of the band, but alone. A random story comes to his mind - the British drummer forced to play his instrument on the roof of a studio, and left there to play after all his mates had left. He is that drummer: he still has a purpose but he longs for company, because what is the point in playing alone?

He tries to sleep but soon realises sleep won't come. He isn't coming down but there is something in his blood stream that makes him feel wired, his body almost buzzing. He could get up and go to work before his shift starts, but he decides to stay in bed to try and sort his feelings. Sparse bits of conversation from the night before flash upon his memory, and shreds of sensations that haven't left him yet. The pressure of the Russian's stacked rings on his neck. Two massive rings on each hand ("Italian jewellery. This shape is inspired to the Coliseum" in rounded consonants), which is ridiculous because they hinder his movements, clanking against each other all the time. Or the key Janik wears as a pendant around his neck ("Is it the key to your heart, Doctor?" in raspy consonants and a smirk). Or the slowness of their kisses. Or the tension he feels in his stomach, a tightly-tied knot which now is finally starting to come undone. Arrogant promises ("I will come and find you again. And it will take me less than five minutes") and scraps of ordinary life ("My brother is an over-controlling jerk").

He twists and turns on his bed until the alarm clock says it is time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rings recurring in the story are by Italian jewellery brand Bulgari. The style is B.zero1.
> 
> The drummer anectode Janik refers to is from the film "24 Hour Party People" by Michael Winterbottom. Legend has it that producer Martin Hannet had Joy Division drummer Stephen Morris set up his kit on a flat room at Cargo Recording Studios in Rochdale.


	2. First day, PM

6 pm. _When words come from the heart, sooner or later it’ll be found out_

Robert is having breakfast when his flatmate returns from work. He doesn't look good. His bright orange uniform jacket makes him look ashy.

"You look like shit," he says.

Janik sighs and slumps on the chair next to him. "I know. I've been awake too long. It’s like I'm tripping."

"Are you?"

"No, it’s just the lack of sleep,” the boy explains. “And the new people at the club…”

“What people?”

“Russians. Something happened with them,” and pulls up his t-shirt to show the bruise on his ribcage.

“What the fuck?” Robert cries out.

"It doesn’t really hurt, you know?" He is smiling. He is beautiful when he smiles. His blue eyes are heavy with sleep and circled in shadows but he still looks beautiful. Robert loves him dearly. That’s why he is so angry at himself: he promised Janik to take care of him, to keep him safe, because he is a good boy, a pure in heart, the closest to a family member he has ever had in his life. That bruise hurts him as much as the boy. He wants to ask why he has been beaten up, but Janik anticipates him.

"I'm in love." There. 

Robert is still annoyed at Janik’s naïve blindness, but a smile blossoms on his lips. He points at the key dangling from the boy’s neck, resting on his now bare chest.

"And is the key to your heart still there?"

"Yes, still here.” Janik looks at him. "I know this whole thing is a mess, but I guess you can't rule the heart."

No, you can’t. He would like to ask him more, but the boy has already moved into his room and closed the door. In any case, he knows about the Russians: they have broken into Berlin a few weeks ago, heavy with drugs and money, eager to invest and launder. He has noticed them at the club, a close-knit group of black-clad people always discussing business and ordering champagne for their women. And then there is the blonde boy, illustrated chest and heavy jewellery, the only one of them who actually dances. Janik has fallen in love with him.


	3. Second day, AM

3 am. _When excitement is poured into the blood stream, the heart falters_

The doorbell rings and wakes Janik from a dreamless sleep. It takes him a while to realise the bell is actually ringing. The heart is in his throat. It's the same rush of adrenaline he feels whenever he jumps on an ambulance or gets to the scene of an accident.

The voice at the intercom swipes away all sleep left. "Hello, Doctor. Want to join me tonight?" and a nervous laugh follows.

On the other side, the intercom is silent. Janik doesn't even turn on the lights but wears the first clothes he finds in his room and leaves. Later, he will realise that his blue t- shirt has holes on one shoulder and that his eyes are crusty from sleep. But now there's no time to think or worry: he rushes down the stairs, repeating himself he must be quick, quick, quick, because if the Russian doesn't see him coming and leaves, that will be the death of him, and he doesn't want to die from heartbreak, not tonight.

The Russian is waiting for him. And he's smiling. Around him, everything is better and richer. He probably tastes like money, too, but Janik hopes to find it out later. Every time they meet, he realises that conspicuous consumption is just a word to him: he's got a driver at the wheel of a massive black Aventador he has probably never driven himself; when he moves, his gold jewellery clinks; but when they kiss, Janik feels there could still be hope for someone like him.

"Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?", the Russian asks, words cheerily curling up in his mouth.

"I was actually waiting for you to find me."

The nervous laugh again. "See? I kept my promise. You're easy to find."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"It's not a bad thing. It means you've got nothing to hide," and the accent falls on the last verb.

Janik is tempted to ask him if he's got something to hide, but opts not to. He doesn't really know what the Russian considers to be conversation-worthy, and finding it out tonight would be bad timing. He doesn't know the limits of his tolerance or anger either, but his ribcage shows what Igor's henchmen think tolerable (homosexuality) or unacceptable (drug addiction). Janik made them believe he was the boy's pusher to cover for him. They didn't take it well.

"We're having a party tonight. You're coming with me," the Russian proudly announces.

It's weird: this man, who runs a certain kind of business with his brother, is still afraid of showing himself in public with another man, and sees that as a conquest. But he knows nothing about his past, so even judging seems wrong. When did he come out? Whom to? What has he suffered for being gay? Is it really bad as they say in Russia?

"One rouble for your thoughts" snaps him out of his considerations.

Janik smiles. "I was just lost in thought. Or maybe I was just taking a little nap."

The Russian leans in and leaves a kiss on his neck. "Don't worry. I know how to wake you," he whispers in his ear.

Words which have an immediate effect on him. Janik wonders if there's molly in his words, because he can feel the hair at the nape of his neck raise, his stomach tighten, his breath suspend, as if he were riding a rollercoaster.

The car passes in front of a luxurious hotel by a linden-lined boulevard. The trees spread a green vault over them.

"Are we in a fairy tale? Am I your Cinderella tonight? Is this going to turn into a pumpkin in a couple of minutes?" Janik thinks but doesn't speak.

He just stares out of the car window, disbelieving of what the city he was born and raised in looks like tonight. The Doric columns of the Gate look ghostly at night, silent witnesses of the eternal ride of the winged victory. The column flutings project spidery shadows on the pavement, phantom fingers of Russian hands ready to _faire sauter la banque_ (as an old roulette-playing lover said), break the bank and buy the city. The streets are almost empty but they drive into the hotel garage, so they can avoid unwanted attention.

Once underground, their ride finally ends.

\---

4 am. _When excitement hits its peak, the heart pines for a little death _

Outside the Russian's room an orgy rages on. The huge suite on the hotel top floor brims with people - most of them naked, some dressed in clear plastic and mesh, all drunk or high.

Janik and his date are holding hands when they open the main door, hands that stay locked until they reach their room. While his eyes are wandering through the knots of people on the floor and on sofas, he marvels at the sheer simplicity of straight sex, how easy it is to make it look mechanic (after all, it's just a question of pushing), but he guesses this is true for any type of sexual intercourse. Everybody is with someone. They look bored, not really into what they're doing, but rather busy in a frenzied collective search for a fleeting moment of pleasure.

He is shocked at seeing Robert there, too, clothes on, holding court among women and doing drugs. His best friend Paul (who owns the club Robert works at) is with him, lost in a drugged reverie. What the hell are they doing there? Who invited them? Robert sees him as he walks past: the look in his eyes seems relieved.

"Is he here to make sure I am ok?", Janik wonders, but then they get to a room and he forgets about his flatmate. There's a guard outside, a man who's not taking part into the revelry, but is to ensure no one gets in there.

The feeling of being high hasn't left Janik yet; it's actually reinforced once he enters the room and the door closes behind him. It's an unbelievable oasis in the desert, a shadowy cool pool of silence. 

"Welcome to my world," the Russian announces, and the way his tongue beats on consonants is harsh and sexy.

"I specifically asked for a soundproof room." He sits on a leather armchair by the window and takes a bottle from a bucket, filled to the brim with fresh ice. 

"What do you need it for? Having your own orgies in here?" 

"Group sex makes me anxious. I'm not good at multitasking," and smirks. 

Janik doesn't realise but he's licking his lips. Men who don't share their partners are a huge turn on.

"Do you like champagne?" the Russian asks. "It's a Dom Perignon from 2000. It's good."

Janik sits on another armchair by the window. "I'm no expert but I love it."

They drink their flutes in silence. No noise, music or moan can be heard. The tops of the lindens are just below them and a verdant light reaches the room, washing the walls in an aquatic shade of green.

The Russian takes his gold chain off, which is interpreted by Janik as a silent invitation. Sitting in his armchair, relaxed, legs displayed wide, the Russian is waiting for him. Janik says nothing but goes to undress him. As soon as he lifts the boy's t-shirt to take it off, he gradually uncovers a cross on his stomach, a Russian sentence on his solar plexus, churches and jostlers on his chest, stars on his shoulders. Stars on his knees, too. He feels like an explorer who is finding the remains of a long-forgotten civilisation. He pushes the curiosity to learn more about those tattoos to the back of his mind, and keeps going, removing fabric, unzipping and revealing. The Russian looks glorious at the brink of nakedness. He's shorter than Janik, but his shoulders are larger, the waist narrower, the muscles tighter. 

"Now it's your turn," he says, and there's a commanding tone in his voice that makes Janik excited. "To the wall." A pause which seals his order. "Now."

The boy obliges and leans back against the wall. 

"Show me how you get undressed."

The few clothes he's wearing are swiftly removed. He's not good at looking sensual. He nervously bites the metal ring piercing his lower lip. Is he good enough for him? 

"You're beautiful."

Janik blushes but in the half-shadows it doesn't show. He lies down on the bed and props himself up on his elbows. The Russian gets near, holding two tiny plastic bags. 

"What the fuck is this?" Janik asks. He knows he's acting defensively but drugs are implied here and the bruise still hurts.

"That is a _ bilet _," a mocking tone in his voice.

"A _ bilet _?"

"Yes. It's a ticket to go to another place."

Here he goes. "Is that heroin?"

"It’s a ticket to Dreamland. We call it билет страна сказка. Will you help me, Doctor?" and he brushes the bags along his chest like a bait .

"No, I don’t want this," Janik replies. No more drugs when the Russian is around. It's too dangerous. God knows if he needs something (anything) to relax, but for once he gladly gives up on chemistry. 

"I understand," and simply shrugs his shoulders, thus dismissing the plan and throwing the bags on the floor. "It's just the two of us then," and jumps on the bed, sitting on his knees between Janik's displayed legs. He leans in to kiss him, hands already holding the back of Janik's head. Both of them take their time: time has been locked out of the room.

Soon Janik is pinned on the bed by his hands: the Russian is on him, straddling. He licks the key on his lover's chest; he puts it in his mouth and sucks it. When he lets it go, it falls on Janik's chest, leaving a wet mark.

Janik progressively loses contact with his surroundings and lets himself go. He pushes down the Russian's shorts and removes them. The metallic touch of his rings are all over him. He feels one pushing against his hole, replaced by the sticky action of tongue and fingers. He throws his head back and a hand is suddenly on his throat, squeezing, the rings pushing into his flesh. He can still breathe but since his mind can currently elaborate just one thought at a time, he opts for "Fuck Russians." Soon grasping the subtle double entendre, he can barely hold down a laugh. Then the room collapses into a blur: the other penetrates and he bears down. Throat and warm liquid are released at the same time. 

The Russian lies down next to him. "You're the most beautiful boy I've ever made out with," and kisses him.

"I hoped I was the best," Janik says while catching his breath.

"I haven't decided yet," and damn, those dental consonants are linguistic sex. 

"Let's see if this can help." Janik removes one ring from the other's finger and puts it on. It fits.

The puzzled look on the Russian's face is worth the risk. 

"Have you ever…?"

"No." He pauses. "I have always told my brother I am the man. And most of the time I believe it's true. But tonight I want to do it. With you." There's a spark in his eyes. "Your dick and my rings." He removes the other three jewels and puts them on Janik's fingers. "I want to feel what it's like." 

Janik looks down at his hands and wonders what being that rich means, forgetting about the actual value of money because what you own will last for generations. Then he thinks about himself - how hard being born and raised in the wrong part of the town was, minimum-wage family, meals with milk and cereals, feeling frustrated and angry all the time. But now he's here, in the heart of the city, in a soundproof room, with the man he's wanted to fuck since they met. 

They swap places. The Russian lies down, legs and arms splayed. He's smiling. He's about to bottom for the first time and he hasn't lost his air of superiority. Janik grabs him by the hips and draws him down, nearer. He goes down on him. The Russian is tight but the mere pressure of Janik's fingertips on his hole makes him tighter. 

"Listen to me. Now you just have to relax. Forget who you usually are in bed. If you don't like it or don't feel comfortable, I'll just stop."

The Russian props himself up on his elbows. "Spare me your empowering pep talk and fuck me already." He sounds both amused and annoyed.

Janik puts aside all pleasantries: he spits on his knuckles and penetrates with them. Does it hurt? He doesn't know. His lover has closed his eyes and is softly moaning. The push from the knuckles is amplified by the metal, that is taking action on the rest of the body, too.

"Tomorrow he must wake up with ring bruises," Janik wishes while pinning him down by the shoulder.

He removes the rings from his right hand and uses his fingers until the boy's tension yields. Not willing to lose control yet, the Russian takes Janik's hardening dick in his hand and starts pumping. Janik soon takes it in his hand and pushes it in, slowly. Then he slides it in, deeper. The ringed hand is pressing a knee to chest, and keeps pressing until it goes slack. 

"Can I?" he asks his lover, just before pulling out.

"All over me," the other replies. 

\---

6 am. ___When the effects of excitement subside, the heart curls up and takes a peaceful rest _

It's dusk. The winged victory is still riding her chariot and, in the distance, her golden sister offers a laurel crown to the city.

In the soundproof room, time has resumed its regular course. Janik and Danilo are sleeping on their sides, facing each other. The much-desired ring bruises have blossomed on the Russian's thighs, upper arms and shoulders. He will cherish them for a long time. 

Janik wakes up and gets dressed: he wants to leave before somebody sees him. He's sure his date will soon be knocking at his door in the middle of the night. He would like to write him a romantic message to leave on the pillow but opts not to. He's still wearing his four rings and he keeps them on.

"Come over and take them if you want them back," and smiles at the thought.

After leaving the hotel, he crosses the street and goes down the stairs of an empty underground station, marked by an old Blackletter Typeface sign on a backdrop of aqua tiles. The familiar smell of vinegar sauce, baked goods and polluted air welcomes him. The train home arrives soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lamborghini Aventador is a car with one row of seats. I've imagined Danilo getting a customised version with two rows of seats.
> 
> The hotel the protagonists go to is the Adlon Kempinski, set along the Unter den Linden boulevard. The Brandenburg Gate is nearby.


	4. Second day, PM

4 pm. _In extraordinarily rare moments, the heart gets what it most desires_

When Janik gets home from work, the apartment is empty.

He didn't see Robert earlier that morning but now finds a text on his phone. "Did you have fun last night?" and three lines of random emoticons. So typical of him (he hasn't figured out how to use them properly).

He takes the mental note of asking him what he was doing at the party last night. What does he have to do with the Russians? They are regulars at the club but is there more? Do they want to deal there?

He puts all thoughts on hold and opens the fridge to fix himself something to eat. He sits down at the counter and he's startled at seeing a black shopping bag there. A black envelope bears his name on it. He doesn't even open it because he knows.

The bag contains four square boxes embossed with gold letters, each of which contains a gold four-band ring, the same the Russian wears. 

"He must come over if he wants them back," he announces to the silent flat.

He wears his new jewelry and unsurprisingly their fit is perfect. He knows he won't be able to wear them at work but owning them, owning a part of the man he loves, makes him unfathomably happy. He keeps them on and goes to sleep.

If he had opened the black envelope, now still on the counter, he would have read: "You owe me my rings. One night for each ring you've kept. These are yours though. I hope they will make me happy for a long time."

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with these star-cross'd lovers last year, when I first watched the show on Amazon. Needless to say, since then I've wanted to give them a happy future.
> 
> Janik has a kink for the linguistic aspect of Russian language. I have it too :)


End file.
